S has officially moved out, sort of. The problem is he can’t really moved out, not when he never officially moved in. He just gradually bought more of his stuff and stopped more nights but the paperwork finally completed on his house and so he’s off. He stayed with my for a few days after completion where we cleaned like maniacs, at his place and the stopped at mine in the evening. Well when I say we cleaned like maniac’s I did, he did manly things like pulling down ceilings… don’t ask… but now, even without a fixed ceiling, he has taken up permanent residency at his. Although I do still seem to have most of his stuff at mine, but anyway.
I miss him like crazy, which I knew I would, but it’s also odd that this house I viewed, then spent a week cleaning, carried hundreds of boxes into and have been involved in choosing paint and wallpaper and carpets and curtains and it’s not and never will be mine. It was somewhere in the middle of the cleaning week that it struck me for the first time, every time I visit I will drive away, back to my house, without him. One of my friends came up to help clean the house, and when I mentioned it him about her stopping the night he questioned why she would.
He’s got such amazing plans for the house, he wants to put in a loft extension, an upstairs bathroom, he is having a. man cave and his first purchase has been the most amazing rusty lampshades – ok I know they don’t sound nice, and between you and me he didn’t pick the nicest ones (I would have had these) but they are. We spend our evenings talking about decorating. We spent and entire day in B & Q picking wallpaper and paint to match the lampshades and, because I got a little carried away, I also took him to Dunelm and the Range where we looking at curtains and cushions and VELUX blinds. I was very good and tried to support rather than over take. I keep telling myself this is about him and not me. But it’s very difficult on some levels it feels an awful lot like my house. Only it isn’t and it’s never going to be. The area is nice, the house is lovely but I want to raise my family, if it happens, in the country not in a city and the whole purpose of this house is that it is his. I have mine, which he knows will stay mine regardless of what. It is may fall back plan, and this house is his so it can’t become my house. But it’s a very odd feeling and although I know this is for the best, there is a small part of me that wishes he had refused to move out, and instead been happy to live with me forever.
Although, I know deep down that I didn’t want that. The problem is when he moved in, sort of, he didn’t. I didn’t have to compromise, I didn’t get rid of any of my stuff. All I did was empty a draw and try not to moan too much about his inability to wipe out the shower. He moved into my house. When we live together it has to be as equals. It has to be a house where we have an equal say in how it is decorated, when you look around the lounge and see his stuff mixed in with mine and I am not ready for that. Not yet. So we go back to living apart and a new chapter of my life starts.
*Please note this is a sponsored post. However, the complete inability to commit and decide what I want, and resentment and S choosing the wrong shades for his house, is completely mine 🙂